Three Weddings and a Funeral
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: The title pretty much says it all. Four vignettes taking place over many years, all post-war.
1. Chapter 1

**Three Weddings and a Funeral**

_June 11, 1955__  
_

"_Arrgh!_ How could I have forgotten _that_?" Margaret screeched as Hawkeye made a quick exit from the room in the hopes of sparing his eardrums.

"The woman seems a mite stressed," Potter noted as Hawkeye joined him in the hallway.

Hawkeye nodded. "You could say that. She just realized she doesn't have something borrowed."

Potter raised an eyebrow.

"You know," Hawkeye said, "as in, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Apparently she's a real stickler for the tradition."

"Well hell," Potter said, "she can borrow something from Mildred. What does she need, some kind of girlie thing?"

Hawkeye shrugged, "I think it can be anything, just so long as it's borrowed. But what do I know?"

Potter held up a finger as he walked away. "Tell Margaret to cool her jets for a minute. I'll get something from Mildred that oughtta fit the bill."

Hawkeye prepared to step back into the room where Margaret was finishing up her preparations, wincing in anticipation of the continued shrieking. He opened the door cautiously, only to discover that—amazingly—the former major was considerably calmer now. "Margaret," he said, putting on a bright smile, "how are we doing?"

"I'm fine, Pierce. Just fine," she assured him, her voice actually on the soft side.

The hell of it was, she did look fine. Maybe Charles had slipped her a sedative or something in the last few minutes.

Speaking of Charles, he was rubbing her shoulder soothingly, doing a surprisingly good job of playing the role of supportive friend. "She's fine," he echoed.

Hawkeye looked from him back to her, more than a little mystified by the mood swings of the soon-to-be wed. "Col. Potter is getting you something borrowed from his wife. That'll do… right?"

Margaret's face brightened at this news. "Yes! That will be wonderful! Thank you!" She turned to look in the mirror and take another visual inventory. "All right, then. Something old… my dog tags, underneath the dress. Something new… well, the wedding dress is new, that counts, right? Something borrowed… whatever Col. Potter gets from his wife. And something blue… well…" She gave them both the evil eye. "Never you mind what that might be!"

Charles and Hawkeye put their hands up in "surrender" gesture. "We wouldn't even dare to speculate," Charles deadpanned.

A knock on the door was followed by Col. Potter's voice, in a bit of a sing-song, "Margaret, can I come in? I've got something borrowed for you."

"Of course, of course!"

Hawkeye opened the door and Potter entered, holding up a delicate and elegant silver bracelet. Margaret ooohed and ahhhed and accepted the bracelet with a teary-eyed, "Thank you, Colonel!" She put it on and admired it, turning her wrist this way and that. Then it was back to the mirror for a final analysis. Apparently pleased and as ready as she'd ever be, she did a pirouette as Hawkeye, Charles, and Potter applauded.

"You look radiant, Margaret," Charles said.

"Just as sparkling as a dew-covered leaf on a bright May morning!" Potter exclaimed.

Hawkeye tilted his head, reaching out. "Perfect, Margaret," he said, and embraced her.

After a moment, she stepped out of his arms and clapped her hands once. "Gentlemen, you have all been very helpful—thank you so much. But now you have to shoo! I need a few minutes to myself before the ceremony."

Without another word, the three of them obediently filed out of the room and took their seats.

"Did she have a meltdown?" B.J. whispered to Hawkeye as Peg rolled her eyes.

"A small one… considering it's Margaret we're talking about. She seems very tranquil now."

"You two just don't understand!" Peg said. "It's the biggest day of her life. She's entitled to a little melodrama."

B.J. smirked. "But she's already been married once. This is old hat to her by now."

Peg swatted him and Hawkeye stifled a laugh.

Charles, one row behind, leaned forward and whispered, "I trust her bridegroom has a firm grasp of the type of… spitfire he's marrying?"

Hawkeye turned. "Kevin's a great guy. Patient and considerate. Treats her like gold. She's got a winner this time." Then, glancing at B.J., "We should've known about Penobscot, Beej. Man could not hold his liquor."

B.J. shrugged. "Seemed like good stock. He was 227th in a class of 396."

That made both of them burst into laughter, and Potter, seated between Charles and Mildred in the row behind them, scolded, "That's enough, Hunnicutt… Pierce."

Peg turned to look at him gratefully. "I'll never know how you managed to handle these two, Sherman. When they're together…" She let the thought trail off, but her eyes rolled once again.

"Like a couple of unbroken colts," Potter muttered, and perhaps he would have elaborated, but that was when the organist launched into "Here Comes the Bride." Everyone stood in unison and turned to watch Margaret's entrance.

Clearly over her pre-wedding agitation, Margaret wore a beatific smile as she took her slow stroll down the aisle, accompanied by her father. Hawkeye couldn't help it... he teared up. Even though he'd watched her get married before, seeing her this happy, this luminous, did his heart good. She deserved to finally settle down with Mr. Right and have her 2.5 children. It was what she'd wanted for so long, and now that her career had stabilized, now that she was fulfilled in that respect, it was time for her to share her life—her victories and her failures —with a mate.

As she walked past Hawkeye, she winked at him with a knowing smile, and he winked back. Then she turned her full attention to Kevin, her groom, who was awaiting her arrival with an expression of clear adoration on his face.

_Way to go, Margaret,_ Hawkeye thought, remembering a long-ago conversation over Scrabble and beers in the O Club. _You found your custom fit in this off-the-rack world._

He chuckled to himself. _Even if it did take a hell of a lot of shopping around._


	2. Chapter 2

_July 20, 1957_

Hawkeye sat on the church steps enjoying a little alone time and fresh air while the reception raged on inside. The door opened behind him, and he was so certain that it was Trapper coming to join him that when he heard an entirely different voice say, "Hey, Hawkeye," he whirled sharply around.

"Well well, if it isn't the bridegroom himself. Congratulations, Radar!"

Radar took a seat next to him on the step, apparently unconcerned about his tux getting dirty, and Hawkeye threw an arm across his shoulders. "Thank you, sir," the newlywed replied with a grin.

"You're not already abandoning your new bride, are you, Radar?"

"Oh no, sir. I just needed to take a breather." He let out a Radaresque giggle. "When I get really nervous… you know, like 'this is your wedding day' nervous? My… special talent gets all revved up. I can hear a lot more thoughts than usual. It was starting to make me woozy in there. I just needed a break, that's all."

"I can understand that," Hawkeye said, wondering what it must be like to be Radar O'Reilly, some kind of apparent low-grade psychic. He seemed to always take it in stride, but there had to be times when it got to be a real pain in the ass. "So how does it feel to be a married man?"

"Ohmigosh," Radar gasped, his eyes wide. "That's the first time anybody's called me that."

"Well I should think so. You've only been married for an hour."

Radar seemed to give Hawkeye's question some serious thought. "Well, it feels good. I love Ginny like crazy, you know. But at the same time, it doesn't feel much different than before." He looked Hawkeye in the eye and gave a shrug. "I'm still me."

Hawkeye smiled broadly at that. "You sure are, Radar. One of a kind. I'm happy for you, kid. Ginny seems terrific. I'm sure the two of you will have a great life together."

"Thank you, sir."

"Radar, you really have to stop calling me 'sir.'"

"Yes sir."

They both broke into laughter, then passed a couple of minutes in companionable silence as birds sang above them and a car or two drove by the church. Then Hawkeye gently said, "Hard to believe… how much you've grown, Radar. Seems like just yesterday we were sitting in the Swamp and you wanted advice on… you know, being with a woman for the first time."

"Ah geez, we don't have to talk about that, Hawkeye—" Radar pleaded.

"…Or some thieving kids had taken your teddy bear and you needed help getting it back." Hawkeye drew him close. "I'm just feeling like… the baby of the family's all grown up, y'know? It's a bit of a shock to the system."

"It's been years since Korea," Radar said matter-of-factly, effectively illustrating exactly how grown-up he was now. There was little trace of the boy Hawkeye had watched over like a protective big brother.

"Indeed it has," he said wistfully, staring out into the street again. "Time marches on, and all that folderol."

Radar squinted at him, his expression one of concern. "Are you upset, sir?"

And Hawkeye pasted that winning smile back on his face to reply, "'Course not, Radar. It's a beautiful day, and one of my dearest friends has just gotten married, and there's a bunch of our 4077th colleagues inside getting drunk and embarrassing themselves on the dance floor. There's not a single thing to be upset about."

Radar looked like he was about to challenge Hawkeye's words when the door opened behind them, and they turned in unison to see Trapper standing there. "Hey kid, there you are. Your bride is starting to get nervous that you've split on her. You better get back inside and rejoin the reception, or you may not have the kind of wedding night you'd like to have… if you know what I mean."

"Oh geez. I don't want her to get mad…" Radar quickly stood and headed inside, leaving Trapper to take his place on the church step next to his former tentmate.

"Nice wedding, huh, Hawk?"

"Great wedding. They make a cute couple."

"Everything all right with you?"

Hawkeye nodded, "Yeah, sure. Just getting some air, that's all."

Trapper clapped him on the back. "Well hell… you've had enough air by now. Come on inside and let's get nice and plastered. Just like old times, huh? Klinger was dancing on the table a few minutes ago… it was really somethin' to see."

Hawkeye laughed. He could just imagine. These people… what a cast of characters. Like the goofy family that didn't get together often, but boy, when they did… look out.

Been through a war and back together. Been through hell together… somehow got out alive… well, most of 'em anyway (_R.I.P., Henry_), with their relative sanity intact. Getting together, then, was like thumbing their noses at the war. _See this?_ _We made it… you tried everything imaginable to take us down, but screw you. We made it._

Without another word, Hawkeye stood and curled an arm around Trapper's waist, going back into the church to join his friends in the celebration of Radar's wedding.

Radar… the sweet-natured, wide-eyed kid of the group. He sure had grown up, all right.

Kind of made Hawkeye wonder when he was planning to follow suit.


	3. Chapter 3

_March 4, 1961_

"You're thrown together as strangers and you become like family," Hawkeye said, his eyes scanning the room. A few of the people he was addressing understood exactly where he was coming from; most of them couldn't possibly relate. "There isn't really an alternative. You _need_ one another, and you find that out pretty damn quickly. So you bond, and you bond fast. The person next to you becomes your brother. Well…" His eyes found Margaret in the third row, sitting there stoic as Kevin held her hand, and he heard himself crack, "Except maybe when that person is Frank Burns." She kept her face expressionless, but he could feel her eyes boring into him… a disapproving glare.

Hawkeye gestured, impatient with himself for taking such a cheap shot. That wasn't what this was about. "So yeah," he continued, getting himself back on track. "We became family. We worked together and lived in each other's pockets and loved one another. Hell of a place… hell of an experience… But we had each other, and that was what kept us all sane. I never would've been able to do it if I hadn't had those people by my side. Every one of them."

For the first time, he spotted Radar in the back. He hadn't expected the former company clerk to show, so seeing him was a nice—and touching—surprise.

"But in the beginning, at the core… it was me and Trapper. My original partner in crime. It was us against them. Whoever the them, we were always us. Playing practical jokes, pulling scams, taking care of our own little corner of the war. We couldn't right every wrong, but damned if we didn't try."

He paused, collecting his thoughts. He was doing this off-the-cuff, nothing at all written down in front of him, nothing at all planned. He'd _tried_ to write something, of course, but the blank piece of paper had just stared back at him, and after a while, he'd given up. He had hoped the words would come to him when he needed them.

"I was looking at some photos yesterday," he went on, picturing them as if they were in front of him on the podium. "Trapper with that lopsided smile of his, martini glass in hand. Trapper in that yellow Hawaiian shirt, looking carefree and happy… not at all like a young man in the middle of a war zone. He was like that, you know. While I was brooding and turning grayer by the second, Trapper was taking it all in stride. You got the feeling nothing bothered him… he'd just roll with the punches. Then one day we found out he had an ulcer, and it was like, 'Aha! You really _do_ have some shit going on inside you after all.'" As soon as it was out of his mouth, he was horrified, wishing fervently he could take it back. _Damn,_ he thought. _Stop saying all the wrong things, you asshole._

He took a measured breath and put his hands on either side of the podium, as if it using it to hold himself upright. "I could go on and on, but really, when you come right down to it… there's only one thing that needs to be said. Trapper John McIntyre, in life we all loved you." His eyes teared up as he looked out at the pews filled with fellow mourners, some of whom he knew, many of whom he didn't. Then he forced himself to look at the casket. It was a closed casket… the damage to his face had apparently been extensive. "And now that you are gone, we will all miss you. Very, very much."

That was it, he couldn't say any more. He put his head down and hurriedly stepped away from the podium, rushing to take his seat, swiping at his eyes as he did. He hadn't realized how much the eulogy was taking out of him while he was delivering it; now he felt drained and overwhelmed with grief.

Kathy, one of Trapper's daughters, stepped up to the podium next and began to speak, but Hawkeye couldn't focus on anything she was saying. His eyes kept glancing in the direction of the casket. Closed, because Trapper's rugged face had been beyond repair. Closed, because the bullet he'd put into his head had done the damage he'd intended, and then some.

Hawkeye shut his eyes tight, because it was the only way to keep from looking at the damn casket that held one of the best friends he'd ever had.

_What demons were you dealing with, Trap? What the hell was going on that made you think this was the only answer?_

Kathy's words weren't even penetrating Hawkeye's brain. Instead he heard Sidney's voice from yesterday, when they'd spoken on the phone. "Nobody ever really knows what's going on in somebody else's head," Sidney had insisted. "Sometimes we may think we do, but we don't. You're going through enough pain… I don't want you to feel like you must have missed signals. There was no way you could have known, Hawkeye."

No way of knowing now, either.

Because just like all those years ago, Trapper hadn't bothered to leave a note.


	4. Chapter 4

_October 6, 1973_

"Hawkeye!" Erin exclaimed as she embraced him, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I'm so glad you came!"

Hawkeye held her at arm's length, admiring how gorgeous she looked, astonished (maybe even more than her own father) by how quickly she'd gone from infant to twentysomething bride. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world, Erin. Congratulations."

"Oh, thank you. Wasn't it just the most perfect wedding? Mom and Dad went overboard… anything we wanted, they made sure we got it. I'm _way_ too spoiled," she laughed.

As if on cue, B.J. approached them then, putting an arm around his daughter but addressing his best friend. "Well, Hawk, my little girl is all grown up, married, leaving the nest. Can you believe it?"

"Seems like just yesterday she was going through potty training," Hawkeye said.

"Ewww!" Erin made a face. "You guys _talked_ about that stuff?"

B.J. joined Hawkeye in laughter while Erin looked nonplussed. But then her new husband summoned her back to the dance floor, so she gave Hawkeye another bear hug and trotted off as the band launched into that sappy Paul McCartney and Wings hit, "My Love." Of course, no song by Wings was likely to ever win Hawkeye over. He was still pissed that the Beatles had broken up.

He saw the pride in B.J.'s eyes as he watched his daughter dance. "Yeah," Hawkeye mused, "where did the time go, huh? Your little girl's married, the war is 20 years behind us…"

B.J. turned to him with a shrug. "Crazy, huh?"

They stared at one another, two aging friends who had no idea how they'd gotten where they were. It seemed like it had all gone by in a blink.

"Hawkeye!"

He spun to see Liv coming toward him, Danny in her arms, his face buried in her neck. "Hawk, I think we'd better go. Danny's getting fussy, he's very tired." Despite the child in her arms, she managed to give B.J. a buss on the cheek. "Hey, B.J. It was a lovely wedding… just lovely."

B.J. nodded and said, "I'm glad you made the trip out here, Liv. We always love seeing you and the young Master Pierce."

Hawkeye took Danny from his wife's arms. The little guy wasn't just tired; he was conked out. Hawkeye gently shifted him to get him settled against his shoulder. "Sorry, Beej, we have to be going. Danny's wiped out. Probably still on East Coast time."

"Sure, Hawk," B.J. said, reaching out and lightly running a hand through Danny's soft hair. "See you all tomorrow. We'll have ourselves a nice, leisurely visit without the distraction of a wedding. We'll just sit on the patio and talk. Beer, ice tea, lots of leftovers from the reception."

"Looking forward to it," Hawkeye said softly, not wanting to wake Danny.

"Never get tired of hearing your war stories, guys," Liv said, and the crazy thing was, Hawkeye knew she was being sincere. She'd only been 16 when the Korean War ended, a fact that still boggled his mind, but she always wanted to hear about it… to understand exactly what her husband had gone through during those three endless years.

Hawkeye watched as Liv waved goodbye to B.J. and headed for the door. He took a couple steps after her, then paused. His best friend titled his head, waiting. "Took me a long time to get to this point," Hawkeye said, and he knew that B.J. understood what he was saying. "But it sure as hell was worth it."

"I know," B.J. said, smiling warmly. "I'm glad."

Then Hawkeye followed his wife, with his 3-year-old son sleeping peacefully in his arms, out to the car.


End file.
